Almost A Requiem
by DarkKritter
Summary: This is the kind of Hermione Pansy stuff I might normally write. It all depends.


Woo, I just wrote a Hermione/Pansy fic about twenty minutes ago, it took me less than half an hour. Its 1:30 in the morning and I hate sleep. So after reading yet another H/P fic I've decided that bitch Pansy is fun too.  
  
Oh, this isn't a series by the way regardless if the titles look to be the same, I just really like the words Epitaph and Requiem, so there.  
  
And this won't be dedicated to my girlfriend either because she still doesn't like Hermione/Pansy, and this might not be a good fic to dedicate to her. I don't know, I always write fics in order, meaning the top stuff first, the story and then the closing stuff.  
  
They're still not mine though I would take very good care of them if I did own them. Mostly. Some of them might be exhausted.  
  
Almost A Requiem  
  
She trusts me. She shouldn't really because I tell her about the thoughts I have. She knows that I think about hurting her, making her bleed. I have at times actually. Its wonderful to see. Her filthy blood dripping slowly into a crystal goblet I keep on my bed. Its slowly being filled with her blood and she never complains because she's in love with me.  
  
Stupid little mudblood, thinking Slytherins can be reformed. She thinks if she tells me she loves me enough some part of my heart might be reborn and then I will be saved. She doesn't know a thing actually. All book knowledge and lessons.  
  
I've never heard of a teacher warning you about sociopathic sadistic Slytherins who take joy in making mudbloods bleed. But I might have been ignoring that lesson.  
  
But she loves me doesn't she. I can tell when she arches up while I'm fucking her. My fingers are in her and I never bother to cut my nails because I like it when she bleeds. And I think she likes the pain. She moans my name, she doesn't scream because she doesn't want to seem angry at me. Its all breathy sobs and moans like a cheap whore you can find on the third corner of Knockturn alley. Not that I would know where the whores are.  
  
Not at all.  
  
It started with an argument between Draco and Harry, because really, what doesn't start with The-Boy-Who-Didn't-Die. Its just that Hermione seemed so sad when she saw them fighting. And it wasn't because of Draco or Harry, or Ron who was busy trying to cheer Harry on. She looked sad when she looked at me, as if it was a tragedy I had to be with them. And maybe she thought it was. I think she still thinks that.  
  
And so I couldn't let her pity me, because I'm a Slytherin and we don't need pity. So once everyone had been told off by McGonagall and points taken away from both our houses Hermione was huffing away from her group since McGonagall had looked at her disapprovingly. I followed her because Draco was fuming about Harry and Crabbe and Goyle were there for him to vent to. So I followed her down the hall and she knew I was following because footsteps aren't easy to hide on stone floors. She turned a corner quickly and I ran a bit to catch up.  
  
I almost slammed into her. And once I was there she had her arms around my waist and her head against my shoulder and she was crying.  
  
The stupid cunt was crying on my shoulder.  
  
MINE.  
  
For Merlin's sake she was bawling like a baby and then she was kissing at my neck and I admit it felt good. But I am a Slytherin and I will not let a mudblood take charge of me. What kind of evil Death Eater to be would I be if I let a little pleasure get me weak. So I pushed her against the wall, kissed her harshly and I tried to fuck some sense into her.  
  
I don't think she got it because she came against my fingers moaning my name and crying against my shoulder.  
  
And then she said she loved me and tried to kiss me.  
  
Night after night now she sneaks out of her room and I bring her into my bedroom, because its much better to have her in my territory. And its nice since I have my own room and our walls are nicely soundproofed. So she can scream as loudly as she wants, even though she doesn't scream.  
  
I try to make her though. I've brought out knives and cut her. I've brought out whips and beat her. Flogs, paddles, ropes, batteries, wax, fire, everything I can think of and more and she had yet to scream for me.  
  
And it becomes a need. I need to hear her scream. I need for her to finally realize that there is no salvation for me because if I could get away with it I would kill her where she lays, tied spread eagle to my bed and whimpering and saying she loves me.  
  
And she never begs. Never has she asked me to stop. Never has she asked me to continue when I do stop. She's always just willing to take whatever I give her. She doesn't even seem fazed when I invite Draco into my room while she's there, tied to my wall and dripping wet because I've just fucked her royally. She doesn't even bat an eye. Not a blush to her cheeks, nothing like that. And Draco just laughs and tells me I've done a good job and he leaves. The fucking prat probably wished it was Harry so he could have his way with him.  
  
And finally I've decided that Hermione is cramping my style. I'm seventeen now and an adult in the wizarding world. I've tested for my Apparition license and gotten it. I've told my parents to take me out of school so I can be a full fledged Death Eater and they've agreed.  
  
Right now I'm standing in front of Hermione, she's on her knees, bleeding from where I cut her along her arms. My cup is filled now and I'm going to take it with me. Almost fond memories. She's looking at me with love and caring, and she's wearing the collar I bought for her when this tryst first began. She wears it religiously because I think she considers it a token of my affection.  
  
I just meant to mark her as mine.  
  
And she's smiling up at me and looking expectantly because I only ever bring her to my room so I can fuck her. But I sit at the edge of my bed and she seems to realize that my things are gone from the room and that the bed is bare and that she's not here for sex. She looks confused for a moment.  
  
" I'm releasing you. Its been fun really, but now I've got to go and be an adult now. You know killing Aurors and all that."  
  
" But..."  
  
" But what? Did you think you were converting me? Did you think you were convincing me to stay with you? Face it Hermione, you're just a fling for me."  
  
She's fingering the collar around her neck. She can't really be all that dense can she?  
  
" This is... this means I'm your's. Black collar, blue is for training, this says I'm your's. You can't release me."  
  
" I think I just did."  
  
And I step up to her and I pull the collar from her neck. I'm sure it will leave a nasty bruise from the force of my pulling it but really, I don't care. I take the goblet of her blood from the nightstand by my bed, the last piece of property I have still in Hogwart's, except for Hermione which I've just given up, and with a pop I leave the school forever.  
  
With a smile I hear the beginning of Hermione's scream when she realizes that she's lost.  
  
Fin  
  
Woo, I got the phrase The-Boy-Who-Didn't-Die from some fic. I've read so many I can't remember which but really, thanks to whoever coined it. woo to D/s. I didn't intend for this to be D/s, just bitch Pansy, but hey, why not. And I am not going to apologize for Hermione knowing about D/s. And to my knowledge blue collars are for training and black is for actual ownership, because that's what I was taught. I might be wrong but hey, since I've never been collared I'm not an expert. And no I don't want to be thank you very much. I just know a lot of useless information because I don't like to sleep. Btw, this took me half an hour to write. 


End file.
